Isabelle, My Big Titty Secretary Ch. 07

Brunette

I don’t want to spoil it, but I wanted to apologize in advance to those that might think this is highly exaggerated, and rather gross. My wife went through this and I know it’s not how things are.

But for the rest who like that kind of stuff, I hope you enjoy. I think it’s my lewdest yet… and probably the end of Isabelle.

Supporting artworks are yet to come for this chapter.

Thanks for reading

********************************

My dear Eric,

I’m writing you this letter today, because I have something, a lot of things, to get off my chest… literally. I hope you’ll appreciate the pun.

You know, this crazy sex we’ve been having was a total eye-opener. It’s been phenomenal, and so fulfilling, I must say. So much that I’m afraid it’s starting to affect my marriage, my love life in general. I could tell my husband was starting to have some doubts and suspicions… And with reason. I might have looked distant to him, lately, and impatient. Maybe I’m also calling out your name in my sleep, I don’t know… but some other signs are undeniable. It was expected, too, because, the thing is, I just can’t stop thinking about you. I crave your dick all the time, simple as that.

We decided to try some coaching for our couple. I don’t know if I’m going to have to spill the beans about you eventually, but I can feel something coming. What direction is this going to take? You know, I realized I have some very strong urges as a human being. So, I wonder: am I going to have to learn to repress those urges, or find a way to maintain a healthy emotional balance between my husband and the man that quenches my explosive libido? At least, that way, I could have the best of both worlds, right?

Our couple therapist said that, according to what I’ve confessed to him, I need to look back on what would have transformed me into the woman that you know today. And that, my friend, would be my two pregnancies from some 20 years ago. That’s right! He thinks that this period of my life would be closely connected to this crazy sex drive I have developed collaterally. I’ll explain why…

So, during my one-on-one sessions, he recommended that I do a catharsis. Putting into words all of these transformations that my body went through as a nursing mother should help me decide if I should keep making my husband subjected to these urges for many more years to come. Doctor’s orders!

I’m doing this to help our marriage. My husband hasn’t called me a nymphomaniac… yet. Still, that’s how I feel sometimes. Should this be a bad thing?

Oh, and don’t worry, he doesn’t know I’m writing this to you. Technically, I was just asked to write it down, but nobody said not to address it in a letter. I don’t even think he is going to want to read it.

By the way… Don’t I remember you talking about this girl at work that came back to the office after a maternity leave? You seemed pretty enthusiastic about her, or more about fertile, nursing mothers in general. So I’m pretty sure you’re going to enjoy what you’re about to read. Let’s put you into context. Let’s exorcise some demons. Sit back and get ready, Eric. I’m about to tell you all about my lady stories from the times I was pregnant… and lactating.

First, I remember going through major changes in my body for my two pregnancies. I had got on maternity leave early in both cases. I was a wreck for almost 2 years straight, since I had my two pregnancies back to back. Depending what stage I was in, I could occasionally go through unexpected fits of nausea, back aches, splitting migraines and mood swings. It became too hard to predict if I was going to spend a good day at work, or if I was going to have to leave due to complications. I decided that I had to stay home.

As you can imagine, I also gained weight, which is normal and healthy when you’re expecting. Some went to the usual target zones, but… what I remember the most was a breath-taking, stupefying growth in my breasts! Before I knew I was pregnant, I had already grown to these juicy 38 G’s that I have today. But… I was still so young and I was afraid that my body hadn’t stopped growing yet in this area, and that these pregnancies and all the hormones that came with them were going to make my bust size skyrocket!

I never bothered buying nursing bras during my pregnancies. And no, I never had myself measured, either. I mean, my breasts were ballooning to tremendous proportions before my eyes and I was afraid to spend a fortune on bras that wouldn’t fit me anymore a few weeks later. I didn’t know what to do! I figured I was going to be better off without and accept the fact that I was probably about to stay home all the time to nurse my daughters. Convenience was going to have to wait!

For my first baby, Victoria, I was busy coping with the hormones and the first complications of shifting lifestyle as a new parent, and I don’t think my breasts had grown that much during that time. I actually remember them hurting more than anything else.

But my second baby, Gabrielle, oh my God! My kadıköy escort breasts felt like they doubled in size… and weight! I always assumed that I must have easily got up to at least a JJ cup size. It was borderline pornographic, it was insane! I remember looking down at myself during my last months of pregnancy and I could barely see my baby belly past my tits! I felt like I was nothing but a pair of big boobs on legs!

As you may know, they recommend you to have sex to… facilitate the work in the canal before giving birth. So we did, hubby and I, maybe a little more than unusual. Though I remember the look on his face: he couldn’t believe how big I got! My mammoth tits swung and sloshed all over the place, it was really impressive! They could easily slap me under the chin whenever he thrusted into me. The poor guy was probably very intimidated by them. My large breasts always fascinated him (though hardly as much as you, Eric), but this was on a whole other level!

Aside from my breasts expanding, lactating had made my nipples all puffy, thick and very sensitive. Not only were my girls born heavier than average to begin with, but it turned out that they both had an appetite that matched their weight. Whenever I was breastfeeding, whenever they clamped their little mouths onto my nipples, I always felt like it was the most wonderful and satisfying feeling ever: the sharing, the bonding, the intimacy with your newborn and, oh! tipping over the edge and succumbing to this combination of sheer joy and carnal pleasure, where all that release still makes you feel so full and eager, somehow…

During my sessions with my coach, we agreed that this, among other things, must be why my nipples are still so ticklish today.

So, you know how lactation works, right? The more demand, the more supply! You can only feed them so much, but sometimes, they’ll fall asleep on you and you still feel the need to release milk.

You’ll see. This is where it gets interesting. It was sort of a happy problem for me, don’t worry.

It appeared that I was gifted with a nearly infinite resource of breastmilk and at a certain point, I didn’t know what to do with it. While on maternity leave at home, I still had a lot of time to myself to rest and relax, like a nursing mother should. But there was always this craving inside of me, yanking at my loins, keeping me on my toes. It was always on my mind. All I wanted to do was to feel this warm liquid come out of me, in any way I could. Mostly, yes, it was because it had to. I could get so swollen and engorged, sometimes, I didn’t want any problems, like getting mastitis or something…

I contemplated the idea of getting those breast pumps, but they looked unnatural and a lot of hassle. They were fast taken out of consideration. Besides, it wouldn’t be a loss if my babies weren’t getting their milk from a bottle. I was always around and, like they all say, I had plenty more where it came from!

So I ended up preferring my hands for doing the work. All I had to do was to let go of a few ounces down the sink whenever I needed, whenever I felt full. Though I realized later that these habits I developed were probably excessive: I must have drained myself this way more than necessary in the beginning. That would have caused my body to think that my milk supply was frequently close to insufficient, and that I had to start producing more. Oh, the mysterious magic of the human body…

Now, picture that: most of the time, when my husband was at work and I didn’t really have to leave the house during the day, I didn’t even bother wearing a top to walk around the house. That’s right! Just out and about, flaunting my two big milk jugs. Not only was it easier access to feed the girls directly whenever they needed it, but it was also more convenient to squirt down a few shots in any sink I could come across as I walked around. That way, I could make a lot more little pit stops.

I started enjoying it. When it wasn’t a little mouth that was relieving me from the pressure, it was my own hands. I was almost constantly fulfilling my need to express this milk. It felt so good inside, it was just pure happiness. It was so relaxing to me, like I was high on endorphins. The sooner it came out, the more I felt like I made room in my boobs to fill up again, and repeat the cycle.

And I remember being so hungry all the time, too. My body demanded a lot of energy for this intensive milk production. All I could do was take care of my babies and myself. Staying very hydrated, getting lots of rest and all that…

So, over the summer, I took advantage of this. It was already so hot out. I could have my baby napping in the backyard, and with all the closed fences around our lot, the conditions were perfect: I was going to wander outside topless. To get some tan, yes, but mostly to experiment a little with… myself.

Being outside like this, I didn’t have to worry if it went down a sink or not. I would just squirt my milk everywhere, making maltepe escort my mess all over the lawn as much as I wanted. It was perfect. That way, I just paced in the backyard back and forth, pressing my breasts, flicking my nipples. I’d make my warm, sticky nectar shoot straight out, then let it trickle down my tits, my belly. Hhhmmm I was getting rather aroused from it. It looked like it was coming out with no end, I saw myself as a cow, or some kind of greek goddess of fertility!

I remember this day, when it became obvious that I was getting pleasure out of this. I couldn’t go back! I kept going and going, shooting my milk, until I felt dizzy, hot and bothered, enough that, eventually, I really had to sit down and… assess the state I was in. I didn’t dare but it was still so tempting! My hands hovered over my pussy like magnets. I softly grazed it through my panties. Then I got the revelation that I didn’t know I needed: I was very moist and I wanted to rub myself! Right there, outdoors, in my backyard. I wanted to surrender my body to nature by releasing my rich and thick elixir for babies into the air.

Just to make this clear, my husband and I used to have lots of sex regularly, so I never really felt the need to masturbate. I’ve done it, trust me, but whenever I was horny, he was mostly always around so we could make love like newlyweds as much as we wanted. You can imagine that as soon as my privates recovered after giving birth, the needs came along as well. So this combination, this arousal coming from my lactation was what triggered it all, I would think.

I hope you’re going to enjoy what I’m about to tell you, if you’re still reading…

So I started slowly, over my panties. I probed my pussy lips and felt them through the fabric, feeling the heat and the moisture building up. And all the while, I also kept releasing my milk in front of me. That’s right! It clicked, I had made the connection! My lactating nipples were turning me on! As I sat on the lawn, legs spread wide open, my hands wouldn’t let go of my thick nubs that were constantly stimulated as I expressed my hot nectar in long, powerful squirts.

Later on, as I toyed with the sides of my underwear, I eventually went underneath and touched my hot throbbing pussy. I ran my fingers down my lips, around every corner and every detail, teasing myself, bringing myself to the edge until I would finally touch my eager clitoris. At first, the faintest touch was enough to make my whole body quiver, but soon I’d race myself to a powerful orgasm! Hmmm I’m getting shivers as I’m writing this…

It slowly turned into pleasure that I knew even my lover couldn’t provide me. My pussy in sync with my dripping nipples was adding a whole new dimension of fun on top of the more conventional sex with him. Simple as that! I could go on for hours just watching the stuff fly out of me. It felt like I was just finding out about all the fun and potential of masturbation, just as if it was the first time.

It’s true! After your first baby, which was Victoria for me, I assumed most women think of their sex like it’s completely ruined. But time passes, and you’re so happy to retrieve these sensations that you believed were dead. I felt so naughty, I was shaking! I was thrilled to feel that fire again! And little did I know that this was just the beginning…

Oh my God, those were such good times. My masturbation sessions got more and more naughty. Eventually, it was all I had on my mind. I could never bring myself to do it in the presence of my babies, but it was just so hard to resist when they suckled on my nipples. Whenever I had the chance, whenever they were napping, I hurried to indulge in this freedom and push my limits. I wanted to feel indecent, dirty, perverse… obscene! I was feeling the need to try every corner of the backyard and make sure I spilled some milk here and there, as if making my territory. I had this infinite and abundant resource, I could do what I pleased with it!

Eventually, I couldn’t even settle down to masturbate: I just had to do it as I walked on the lawn, squirting the plants with my milk. Nearing my orgasm, though, I would feel my knees wobble and I’d collapse, groaning face first on the grass! And I was getting really vocal about it, too. The whole neighborhood was gone to work, I could moan and groan all I wanted! Yessss…

After an orgasm, I always had some kind of lucidity dawning on me. I thought I was getting crazy, deluded for being so perverted. I wondered if I should feel guilty for using for my own pleasure what should be meant to feed my children in the first place.

With time, I really had to pace myself. As days went by, it could become rather draining and exhausting. I knew it could affect my patience and overall disposition. Eventually, my husband must have noticed a change in my mood. He must have felt I looked distant, detached, though he never talked to me about it. He was good for just making himself available to listen, leaving his escort bayan door open just in case I needed to talk. He must have blamed it on the hormones coursing through my body and all the complications around the babies, thinking that it was just phases, temporary spells. Anyways, it wasn’t like he didn’t feel like I did, sometimes. We went through the same sleepless nights and long droning days with fussy babies, he was being a very good dad.

Indeed, he might have thought I looked tired, but I knew, deep inside, it was because my brain was busy recollecting what I had done during the day, playing back these images in my head, over and over. There was no stopping it! Every day, I wanted my milk production to reach new records, filling my tits with more maddening desire! My daughters grew hungrier and hungrier, making my dirty sessions become much more frequent that I can remember. The demand increased ceaselessly, so did my raging lust!

The source of this lust was right under my nose, literally. It wasn’t like I tried to refrain from turning on a computer and watch too much porn. I was my own fucking porno, Eric! I was reminded of their presence every time I woke up in the morning. They were my attraction towards this hidden side of me. The duality was tearing me in two: I craved it though I was also ashamed of it, somehow. I wouldn’t have wanted my husband to see me like this. And he was better off this way.

So I kept going, and had to find ways to lead this double life.

Summer stretched on. We got to enjoy some vacation time as a family, though we weren’t planning on going on any kind of wild trip, not with young babies. There was also the fact that I was attracting a lot of attention in public with my ginormous braless breasts. I was still deprived of any kind of support for them, and whatever top I could wear, it was always risky to get occasional leaks that seeped through. That made our trips getting cut short because of this… condition.

With hubby around the house for a while, I couldn’t just make this frantic lactating grind to a halt! I had to figure out how to manage it without succumbing to these crazy urges to flick my clit! Any desire that my lactation brought up, I often had to resolve to some weird, crazy sex with him directly. The fact that my tits were so huge and squirting milk everywhere like two punctured water balloons, drenching the bed sheets, must have made him want to get it over with as soon as possible. He felt uncomfortable, and he must have thought he was hurting me, or something. Quite to the contrary, I was indeed very much getting off, but mostly from watching my nipples just spurting milk everywhere!

When hubby was home during his vacations, I had opted to wear shirts for the sake of minimal decency. Very few fit me still and he must have thought I looked vulgar in them. My jugs would just spill out any opening they could. At that point, clothes had become annoying more than anything. Useless. I was so used to walking around the house naked by now.

I was ashamed to admit that I looked forward to him stepping out the door on that monday morning. Big time! I had been going on for 3 weeks without treating myself. I felt like a junky deprived of his drug, so no need to explain that as soon as I was home alone again, I relapsed. My breasts felt all full and swollen; my nipples ached for stimulation; my pussy pulsed with my heartbeat. I was ravingly horny! Besides, this long withdrawal gave me lots of time to come up with a few ideas of how I wanted to push my limits. I was going to have my own little party.

First of all, I opened the drug cabinet and looked at the little box I had bought the previous day at the pharmacy. It read “Lady Leche: natural lactation supplements”. Yeah… You’re probably going to think I was crazy. Why would I want to produce more milk when I already have more than enough, to a point where I could barely wrap my arms around my breasts? Well, let’s just say I was very curious. I was so obsessed with these discoveries and the pleasure they brought me! I wanted to dig deeper and deeper into the untapped potential of my body. Indeed, my little perversions now caused a lot more of that milk to go to waste, but I had this whacky idea that I wanted to see if my milk could just stream out continuously in front of me… So I gulped one down, making it course in my system. I had to take one each day. Now, I just had to wait and see if it was going to work at all, but… I was so excited, nevertheless!

Also, since I couldn’t quite change my oil as often in my husband’s presence, I had noticed some leakage occurring through my shirt from the way my breasts bounced up and down as I went down the stairs. My boobs were now used to being drained almost to completion by every possible way, so this excess had to come out somehow when I simply walked down the stairs. This was new, and very intriguing. I thought I looked so sexy squirting milk like that without my hands. It felt like I wasn’t even doing the work! I felt proud of myself and aroused all the more to see that I could achieve this. I knew I was going to have to try and shake my shoulders, wobble my tits in the process and see if it would come out like a sprinkler in my backyard. I wondered, what will I ever do with two free hands now that I knew I could express milk without them. Oh, the possibilities!

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